


Dragon Choice

by Merfilly



Series: Dragon Alternity [2]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Bisexuality, Multi, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was there for the queen egg, but bronze Genneth chooses otherwise</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllieMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/gifts).



> This is my blatant disregard for enforced gender choosing in this canon.

The queen egg rocking on the sands kept Meralie and the rest of the young women -- some honestly no more than girls -- captivated as the dragons hummed and swelled the Hatching Grounds with their voices. She did not pick at the hem of her white tunic, nor did she do more than shift from foot to foot. She did not expect to make the Impression; the blue that had Searched her had been far too quizzical in his regard for her, as if not quite certain.

Now, with the moment at hand, Meralie would be content to just prove her skills here to the weyrhealer, so that she could stay. She'd never been allowed to make the journey to Fort and present herself as an apprentice, and was far too old now, but she had learned all she could when the journeyman healer had stopped on his rounds. She knew her small hold needed one like her, yet she had always felt stifled there.

In truth, the candidate had hopes that Jemmie would be the one, as the younger girl was from one of the more backwoods holds that kept their women sequestered from Gathers and raising babies until they wore out. Jemmie deserved better than that, and Meralie was insistently throwing all her hope toward the young woman and the egg.

 _The queen is not yours,_ someone told her, just before a small shove caught her in the shoulder. She did not sprawl, but stumbled and turned to see the snout of a fresh hatched bronze. _I am. I am Genneth._

Meralie only then realized the voice in her head was not so far from her own when she took a chest cold, just a little deeper, and more distant. She stared into the whirling, jeweled eyes tinged in blues and oranges, feeling the firm conviction that she would never have to leave the Weyr, never be alone, never be misunderstood again. Dimly, she heard the talk of weyrmen and crowd alike, as she raised a hand up to the snout that had poked her. "Genneth is his name!" she called, making it clear to one and all that she had found her dragon, or the other way around.

`~`~`~`~`

B'nel held his hand up at all the arguing going on around him. He then stood, in order to actually get them to be quiet. "What happened yesterday is not something that can be undone, so most of your arguments are invalid from the beginning. The dragon chooses, and this was clearly a case of draconic choice! Meralie was still intent on the queen when Genneth prodded her."

A few grumbles were heard, but that point was certainly not in contention.

"What do we do when her dragon matures?!" Prissa asked, fidgeting when B'nel let his eye fall on her. He really had not wanted to ascend here; it was why he had left Ista. Perhaps the new pair could be transferred to Ista, if Corisa was willing. The Istans were far better minded about oddities in the so-called natural order of things. The only reason B'nel had transferred was to avoid the Leadership, and his Malenth had still outsmarted him by flying Prissa's gold. 

As far as he was concerned, he would take Malenth on patrol the next time he had an inkling the senior queen was rising.

"We let Genneth prove himself, and if he is strongest, wittiest, or most enduring, the queen accepts her dragon's choice," he decreed. "We all know the flight need not make weyrmates of the results!"

"What if she queers the flight by not being interested enough for her dragon's choices?" S'ten asked.

"Hasn't stopped you from letting Bolenth chase greens," B'nel informed him, and the rest of the room, as they all watched S'ten turn red with embarrassment. The Hold-born rider had always hastily vacated the green-rider's quarters, though he was at least graceful enough to never say a word against them.

"Rider preference is more likely to turn the gold against her bronze than anything," Chaner said, injecting a little wisdom into the conversation. "As for Genneth's prowess among greens, when it begins, that will have to be between Meralie and the riders involved. With a preference for both rather strong in all levels of the Weyr, I think there really is no call for this meeting."

"Well said, Chaner," J'reg told her, smiling. "As I have Weyrling duty, I'll keep an eye on her. She's like to get hazed, but then so do the prissy ones. I won't stand for it, but if she or any of them show signs, because I can't watch them always, I need your word, all of you, to lend aid."

"Any wingleader, second, or queen rider not protecting such riders will face summary discipline from me," B'nel informed them all. "Now get out and go finish soaking your heads from last night's wine!" He took his seat back, waiting for them all to file out. Once they had, he closed his eyes and reached out to Malenth. _Handsome lad, talk up Bereth and see if Corisa minds a visit?_

 _You know she likes you. And I would like to see Bereth._ Malenth did the talking, reaching out to his long-time weyrmate. He had not been pleased to move, as Ista was always warm, but B'nel enjoyed the company of a rider here, and it was good. _She says we may come._

_Meet me up at my weyr, then, and I'll run your harness on._

`~`~`~`~`

Corisa listened to the unusual tale of an unusual Impression, flipping the worry stone through her fingers, while Maiza sat beside her.

"Let me start off by saying you had best not be trying to set me up, B'nel," Corisa warned him.

"Of course not." B'nel smiled at Maiza, then her. "I know you're quite well partnered. No, it was more that Istans tend to be … calmer."

"So we do," Maiza said. "And honestly, Corisa, by the time Genneth is rising with enough power to catch a queen, you might just be thankful to have a change of pace from the G'rels and M'nads."

Corisa grinned at that. "I just might, but you always come first, no matter what Bereth puts in my furs."

_I do not. Their dragons do that._

Both women laughed, and then had to share, which set B'nel to laughing as well.

"I have one other concern, B'nel," Corisa began. "She's like to actually form relationships with the weyrlings there. I don't have a clutch Genneth's age, or close enough, to salt his rider in now."

"True, true... how about calling it part of bloodline swap, two Turns hence? Her dragon's wing, plus how many ever seasoned riders, against the same number to freshen lines?" B'nel offered.

"That would be preferable than just taking her, now or then. So be it; and I'll tell Geni, Silath's rider, should anything happen to me between now and then. She'll honor it, and is most likely to rise closest to any open flight being called."

"May the day anything happens to you, Maiza, or Bereth be far into the Interval," B'nel said fervently. He stood, coming over to kiss them both on their cheeks. "Let me go; I'm certain Prissa is probably sulking by now that I put an end to her grievances so soon."

"I know it was not your wish, but I think you will do well by the Weyr to keep her in check," Corisa admitted.

"It's the only reason I've coped so far, and I'm grooming Ch'len to take my place, next Flight," B'nel retorted. "My duty to Bereth." He strode out, feeling lighter for having managed this duty.

Corisa looked at Maiza, who merely shrugged. 

"It will be as it will be, my Weyrwoman," the elder of the pair said, rising to tidy from their snack and meeting.

`~`~`~`~`

Meralie did pull the force of her punch, only because the rules against brawling were there to protect the dragonets from sudden blackouts by their riders. Thankfully Genneth was trying to be calm and calm down Krath, the brown of the rider that had started the fight. He was a sensible bronze, and hung onto her admonition that because she was different, rough stuff would happen.

She was getting tired of it. From the 'accidental' trips, to the brooms or shovels pushed too hard her way during chores, her entire body was a mass of bruises. And this was fully in spite of J'reg's warnings about bullying.

"P'ner, you really need to stop and think," Meralie told him, breathing careful and slow, the way her father had taught her. She kept her eyes on the other rider, aware she and he were being ringed in, but too focused to worry about a bum-rush.

"No thinking needed, powder puff," the swaggering brown rider said. "Not riding under a girl, weyrling wing or not!" On the last word, P'ner swung with all his might. Meralie sidestepped the blatantly choreographed punch, and had a forearm up to turn aside the second, sneakier blow. She had stepped forward with the maneuver, and followed up with a forceful head-butt from her skull to his nose.

That was enough to knock him back, his hands coming up to the gush of blood, but she was fairly certain she hadn't actually broken his nose, since Krath was not bugling too much.

"I don't want to keep fighting any of you!" she snapped out. "I ride bronze, and we only had three hatch in that clutch! So get it through your thick skulls, I ride lead for training!" She looked them all over, the circle of weyrlings far too close to her for her sense of security. Genneth was not happy, but Krath was taking all his will to force the brown to stop bleating about his injured rider, and it wasn't like he could get down into the blackrock storage room.

"After that headbutt, I don't want to come up against you, and I'll take your back against any who do," T'dan said, stepping out of the circle and toward her. The popular brown rider glared at the circle, making some nervous and others edge back to escape notice.

"Can fight my own fights," she muttered.

"We're dragonriders; we fight for each other, not against," T'dan told her firmly. She took the hint and just waited for others to make up their minds.

When the weyrlings walked out, Meralie had a full third of her clutch mates lined up with her, and J'reg decided to let the matter go. If they had worked it out for themselves, the resultant wing would be stronger for it.

`~`~`~`~`

B'nel reviewed the three wings out of Jameth's last clutch, seeing them with the critical eye of a Weyrleader. The usual antsy youthfulness was visible, but if he had to judge, the wing led by Meralie and Genneth was showing tighter discipline than the other two. Corisa's Weyr would be stronger for it.

"You've all graduated to the fighting ranks, riders. And now it is time for you to move on from Telgar to your new homes. All three wings have been transferred, though once you arrive at your new Weyr, you'll likely be broken out to flesh out established wings. We send you on in your training wing so you're not completely without support in a new place." He smiled at them all, even as a few more looked nervous. "Do your clutch-class proud in your new home."

He then stepped back to let J'reg give the official assignment. "K'nath, your wing is posted to High Reaches. W'lem, you will take your wing to Benden. Meralie, Ista for your wing."

The assignments were met with faint surprise, some disgruntlement, and a little bit of apprehension. K'nath gave a mock-shudder, echoed by many; it was so cold in High Reaches after all.

"You have until the morning here to gather all your gear, say your farewells, and report to your new Weyrwomen," B'nel said. "Good luck, riders, and to your dragons."

`~`~`~`~`

Meralie leaned into Genneth, their first fall for Ista at an end at last. Neither of them had so much as caught ash, and from all she was hearing, none of their class had either. That made her feel good, but she was bone tired; the winds here were more whimsical.

_Casooth is injured._

Meralie pushed off her bronze, giving him one more pat before she began walking toward the surgical area of the bowl, spotting the brown easily enough, for there were neither healers nor experienced support staff with him. He'd been one of the last wings back, likely hiding his injuries from his wingleader.

"See to his rider," she told the half-grown boy trying to get a pot of numbweed up at the score across the flank. _Genneth, calm him, please._ She knew when her bronze had, because the rider was finally able to slide down, looking at his dragon in concern.

"I swear he never whimpered til we landed!" the brown rider was protesting.

"Cold took his mind off, he forgot, and then landed jarred it," Meralie surmised. "It's shallow, rider..."

"C'nox." The brown rider looked at her, still in flying gear and with her goggles hanging around her neck. "You're one of the new ones?"

"Yes. But I've some knowledge of scores and treating them," she promised, as a helpful lad slid a stool close to the leg she needed to be able to reach. Climbing up, pot under one arm, she inspected it. "Quite clean, but can I have some redwort to irrigate it?"

"Yes, bronze rider," one of her two assistants piped up, finding the antiseptic pouring bottle. She used it freely, careful not to flinch when the dragon did. 

"There, there," she soothed. Once she was sure it was clean, Meralie inspected the shallow score again. It did not, in her opinion, need any stitches or even packing, and she set about numbing it after treating her own hands in redwort. "C'nox, you've a brave lad in Casooth. He honestly would have never felt it in the air, once you'd come from _between_ and it's not his fault he forgot it happened."

"Still feel as if I ought to have noticed... felt the hit, but he said he was fine," the brown told her. "No, Janro, I'm not scored," he told the boy trying to check him over. He kept his eyes on the work for his dragon, and was the one that moved to help her down from the stool. "My thanks... a minor score like that would go a while before he was seen."

"Hardly," a new voice said, stepping around the dragon. Meralie looked to see Maiza, the headwoman of the Weyr, and weyrmate to Corisa, the senior queen rider. "Light injuries today, as if the young ones we got in were keeping you all on your toes to set a fine example," Maiza said, squinting up. "Fine job you've done for him, though, Meralie. I believe he's the last to check on, so go and get your dragon settled."

"Thank you, Maiza," Meralie replied, smiling at C'nox before moving on.

"So she's the bronze rider they fussed over? Can't see as she's anything but a help," the brown rider said before she was out of earshot, making Meralie walk that much taller.

Maybe, just maybe, she and Genneth had finally come home.


End file.
